


Divergence

by Andromakhe



Category: Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Carrying On, First Impressions, Gen, Loss, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromakhe/pseuds/Andromakhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon's death and its aftermath, from his and Obi-Wan's perspectives. Kind of AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loss

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unopened Letters](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/156731) by Tanba Josav. 



> I got the idea of Qui-Gon owning a rock collection from Tanba Josav's "Unopened Letters." Loved that characterization so much, it’s become fanon to me. This story is a hodgepodge of canon, EU, and my own fanon, so not totally compliant.

Qui-Gon sat pensively staring off into space. The Queen and her captain had just finished telling him and Obi-Wan about the plan of attack to reclaim Naboo from the Trade Federation and he'd retreated below the deck to try to get his anxiety under control. Because that's what he felt - fear. The Zabrak who attacked him on Tatooine reveled in battle and was adept with the Dark Side, using it to his advantage and to heighten his pleasure. Qui-Gon knew there was a good chance he would not survive if they met again, and he was sure they would. He did not know if Obi-Wan could tell how close that duel had been. All he knew was that he had to keep the Zabrak occupied and away from him. Because the only thing worse than losing his own life was to watch helplessly as his promising Padawan perished before he could come into his own. 

The only problem with that was that he couldn't hold out indefinitely. The Zabrak was not an enemy that would allow his quarry to run away. At any rate, the Zabrak could not be allowed to pursue the Queen. It would be a fight to the death, and proponent of the Living Force though he was, he did look ahead, no matter what Obi-Wan thought. He knew what was at stake and though he'd try to survive, ultimately the young lives in his care were more important than his own.

Qui-Gon knelt in meditation behind the last laser gate. The Sith paced impatiently beyond them. So far, Obi-Wan had briefly joined the fight, but Qui-Gon had been mostly successful in his own private mission. As he waited, welcoming the respite, his awareness of the moment vanished. 

He saw Obi-Wan with a Padawan, dueling Dooku. Dooku was certainly capable of taking on more than one opponent, Qui-Gon knew, but such a situation in sparring was rather unusual. Not unlikely, though. But then he registered the color of Dooku's lightsaber and his heart skipped a beat.

He next saw Obi-Wan with the same person, now a Knight, locked in a space battle. He'd always known Obi-Wan was a skilled pilot, and they moved as though they'd flown together often and were quite used to working together. He was happy to know Obi-Wan would get a Padawan he was close to. He wanted Obi-Wan to know the joy he himself had found training him.

He saw Obi-Wan's Padawan slay Dooku. He felt regret at this, just as he did when realizing Dooku had fallen. He had unconsciously expected Dooku to fall, perhaps from subtle hints over the years, but he'd still been his brother and apprentice once and it hurt to see him killed. Palpatine was there for some reason, but he didn't pay much attention to that. He assumed since Dooku was a Sith, the Knight hadn't had much choice.

He saw Obi-Wan leading a great Army, only to be fired on and plummeting from the sky. No, no! Why would they do that to his compassionate boy?

And finally, he saw the Jedi Temple burning. 

The Dark Side mustn't win. Anakin...He must be trained. Perhaps the Dark would not win then. 

He got to his feet and resumed the fight with Maul, though there wasn't much further they could go. It was kill or be killed. His visions cemented his conviction, which gave him a burst of power.

And then, he was run through. At that moment, he decided that there was something worse than watching his Padawan die. It was hearing his heart break and knowing there was nothing he could do to comfort him. He knew now that Obi-Wan had to train Anakin. That's what his visions meant. The boy's future was said to be uncertain. But Obi-Wan was honorable, capable, and if anyone could teach Anakin what was good and right, it'd be Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon felt his strength slowly ebbing away. But he held on with everything he had. This last objective was of dire importance.

Finally, he felt Obi-Wan lift his head. His poor boy. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Qui-Gon was supposed to laugh and cry with Obi-Wan at his Knighting Ceremony, be so proud. All he felt now was a crushing regret, especially because even to the end, he had to be a Jedi and put duty first.

"Promise me you'll train the boy."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan choked out, finally beginning to see the truth that it was indeed too late.

Qui-Gon had never been good at saying goodbye. He hated it. He weakly caressed his apprentice's cheek, hoping that Obi-Wan would understand that his love and farewell were contained in that gesture. He just could not say it out loud. It was too final. Instead, he reminded Obi-Wan about the darkening of the Force, and when Obi-Wan affirmed his promise, Qui-Gon let go.


	2. Grief

Obi-Wan sat on the floor of the generator room, cradling Qui-Gon’s lifeless form. He still couldn’t believe what had just happened. He couldn’t believe Qui-Gon was dead, when five minutes ago, he’d been alive. How could it change so fast? He felt the precise second Qui-Gon’s signature separated from his body, but there was no pain from their training bond. Obi-Wan didn’t remember Qui-Gon severing it, but then, he hadn’t felt Qui-Gon’s injury, either, so perhaps he felt no pain because he’d been shielding until he died. He touched Qui-Gon’s still-warm brow, his hand, clutched at his fingers. Never again would he hear that beloved voice, feel that warm touch, be cheered by that gentle laughter. He’d expected his Master to join the Force, of course, but it wasn’t supposed to be so soon. 

He fingered his braid and felt helplessly overwhelmed. A Padawan still and no Master. He didn’t want another one. But he supposed he had no choice. Wait, how was he to train the boy if he was still a Padawan? Well, perhaps he could just have it known that he intended to train him when he was Knighted.

He looked around morosely. It occurred to him he was alone here. The only Jedi among a bunch of strangers, and having to train a boy he considered a nuisance. He didn’t even know how the other prongs of the attack strategy were faring. Honestly, he didn’t care much. No. Nothing had meaning anymore.

Why hadn’t Qui-Gon waited? If he’d stayed where he was and Obi-Wan caught up, they could have taken the Sith together. It’s not like the Sith could have run him through if he’d stayed behind the lasers. He paid with his life for such recklessness and left Obi-Wan to fend for himself, which he wasn’t sure he was equipped to do. Jedi were taught how to survive with very little, but he wasn’t exactly confident in such skills, or his ability to make decisions. He usually relied on his Master for leadership. But there was no time to argue with his Master over the logistics of his training Anakin. He’d just have to do the best he could, he supposed. At least, as far as technical aspects of Jedi training, he knew what to teach him and how. If he wasn’t sure he was ready or willing to make the sacrifice and take the responsibility, well, it was too late to change anything. And surely, there were plenty of Knights and Masters who’d been in his position before, so maybe he could talk to them. His case would be unique, but there would be many who understood what it was to be training a Padawan for the first time.

Yes, maybe there were no Jedi here now, but he was part of the Jedi family. He had friends, other teachers, the Temple to go back to. He would not be alone indefinitely. And his Master…He didn’t know if he was literally part of the Force or in the Force as a conscious entity, but either way, he resolved to do his best to honor his memory and his training. He would show the galaxy how well he’d been taught. 

He carefully released his Master and went in search of Captain Panaka. He’d need to talk to him about what happened and inform the Council of his Master’s passing. He would grieve later. There was work to do.


	3. Consolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /Mind speech/

The funeral for Qui-Gon Jinn should have been where Obi-Wan said goodbye. But it wasn’t. It was too impersonal, too crowded. What right did those people have to be there, pretending to mourn him? Even Anakin wasn’t mourning him; he was crying for his future. Certainly, the Jedi had a right to be there; he was one of their own. And Padme…Obi-Wan thought she was truly sorry that he’d fallen. Yes, Padme deserved to be there. But who else really knew him? He supposed the Naboo natives had the right to honor a hero, if nothing else. Obi-Wan didn’t think they were pretending in that aspect.

Still, he hadn’t yet laid the dead to rest. He knew he would always miss Qui-Gon from time to time, but he felt he hadn’t yet truly accepted the violent end to his apprenticeship and thought something more private was in order. He also knew his current train of thought was completely unseemly for a Jedi of his rank. But what could he do? It was what he felt.

He was glad Anakin was currently with the Initiates and not living with him. He would train the boy, but not for a few years yet. Anakin needed to learn the basics of the Order, and Obi-Wan had time to get used to his position, or at least, gain some confidence in leadership. The Council was sending him somewhere in the next few days, in fact. Probably their subtle way of reminding him to live. He chuckled ruefully.

Indeed, the funeral, the celebration on Naboo, the return to his and Qui-GOn’s former quarters were remembered in bits and pieces. He’d been glad Jedi have very few personal belongings, so going through Qui-Gon’s room wasn’t as bad as it might have been if he’d been a civilian. The only things Qui-GOn really called his own were his rock collection, from which Obi-Wan’s own Force-sensitive stone was taken, and his lightsaber, which was clipped to Obi-Wan’s belt. He would need to build a new lightsaber before he left for his mission. He would keep the stone, though. That was a gift and therefore, his. The rock collection he offered to Qui-Gon’s friends. Each took a favored stone, and it was decided the remaining rocks would add some nice touches to the Temple gardens. Obi-Wan smiled in remembrance. A good solution. Qui-Gon would be at home here.

Obi-Wan picked up his travel bag, ensuring he had water, his comlink, sunscreen, insect repellent, a meditation mat, and some energy bars. He didn’t plan to be gone long, but one never knew what trouble one would get into. His stone was in its customary place over his heart, hidden in an inner pocket of his tunic.

As he was leaving the grounds and at the front door, Master Gallia called to him. "Knight Kenobi, trying to sneak out, are you?" She gave him a wry smile.

"Hey, I never did that with Master," Obi-Wan grinned. "Well, except maybe the one time I got hungry later at night and tried to get food from the kitchen. But Master was amused."

Adi chuckled. "Where are you off to?"

"Mount Manarai. I just…need to be alone."

Adi gave him a knowing look. "You’re still in mourning, aren’t you?"

Obi-Wan ducked his head and looked at his feet.

"Be mindful, young one. Sorrow makes you vulnerable if you are going into the wilds alone. Stick to places you know. Do you have your comlink?"

Obi-Wan nodded and fished it out for her to see.

"How long will you be gone?"

Obi-Wan replaced the comlink. "I’m not sure. Can’t be more than four hours, though. I’d worry if I’m not back by dinner."

"Very well. May you find the peace you need, and may the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan bowed respectfully. "May the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan found a secluded clearing in the midst of trees. Dirt was under his feet and light was dim. No sentients were near; only animals and birds broke the silence. He unrolled his mat and spread it over the ground, sitting down carefully. Yes, this was perfect. He reclined against a tree, closing his eyes, and took his stone and his Padawan braid from his tunic pocket. He set the stone on the mat next to him and wove the braid between his fingers, feeling the coarse strands and touching the beads.

"You know, Master, this braid meant so much to me. I worked toward the day you’d sever it and place it in my hands. Master Yoda did it instead. I hope he doesn’t feel too badly that I chose not to give it to him. I respect him very much, but it just didn’t feel right.

"The Council deemed my defeat of the Sith a worthy substitute for a formal Trial. Indeed, as good as a formal Trial. Your loss and my reaction to it made them certain I should be Knighted. At least, I can tell myself I deserve this position and it wasn’t given merely for Anakin’s sake. And I even got them to allow me to train him, as you asked. You should be proud, Master. I’m following you. Yoda said I was showing your defiance." Obi-Wan gave a sad smile. "You said I was ready for the Trials. The Council wasn’t so sure. But I guess you were right. I was ready.

"But I’m not ready to face life alone. I wasn’t ready to let you go when you were killed. I simply had no choice in the matter. I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay without you. But I couldn’t talk to you at the funeral, couldn’t give you my braid at the funeral, couldn’t show my bereavement at the funeral. There were too many watching. A proper Jedi is composed, controlled, calm. They had to see what was fitting. Maybe the Force was with me then. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t even broadcasting any emotion, so even Force-sensitives couldn’t sense the hollowness I felt. I was placid. Your funeral was just another task to complete. I know that sounds harsh, but believe me, I had no choice in that, either. If I didn’t retreat to duty, I’d have just fallen apart.

"Master, I don’t know how you expect me to train Anakin without your guidance. But at least, I have a few years to prepare and get used to the idea. I just need to prove to myself I can do the tasks required on my own, particularly missions. Food, clothing, and shelter aren’t really a problem. You made sure to teach me to survive early on. I haven’t had to use the knowledge very much, I admit, but at least, if I’m thrown into such a situation where I have to live off the land, I’ll have an idea of how to do what needs doing."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked up at the sun filtering through the leaves. "I miss you so much. I think I always will. You were everything to me - friend, teacher, confidant, and the closest thing to a father I’ve ever known. No. You were my father, because isn’t a father’s job to be all those things and train a child until he’s independent? Isn’t it a parent’s job to provide for a child physically, socially, emotionally?"

Obi-Wan frowned in realization. "I guess I’ve been neglecting Anakin. It’s not his fault you were killed. But I haven’t wanted to look at him. I’m just not at a place where I can deal with him very well. He only reminds me of what I’ve lost. I would only snap at him if I spoke to him too long.

"I remember you’d stay with me when I was sick and would always visit when I was injured. You didn’t like me hovering when you were sick, but seemed happy for me to stay with you when you were hurt, physically or emotionally. I know it seemed to soothe you, even if we didn’t say anything. Never realized how important that was - how much trust and love that showed. Because you didn’t just let anyone near you when you were vulnerable like that. And you certainly didn’t talk to just anyone about things you felt. As for me, I talked to you when I was upset emotionally, much like I’m doing now. You always knew what to do or say. Sometimes, all I needed was a touch. I will miss that.

"I guess I came to say goodbye," Obi-Wan murmured sadly, as he fingered the beads in his braid. He unwound part of the plait and removed the beads. He thought he could give them to Anakin over time, as he completed milestones, and he’d tell him Qui-Gon had given them to him. He put them in his bag and picked up the braid, placing it on the dirt well away from the mat. He ignited Qui-Gon’s green blade and swept it over the bundle of hair, burning it easily. Yes, he had given his Master his braid in the only way he knew how. It was fitting.

Deactivating the lightsaber, he returned to the mat and picked up the stone, warm in his grasp. He lay on his stomach, replacing the lightsaber at his belt and cupping the stone in both hands, pillowing his head against one arm and closing his eyes again. He listened to the birds, the rustling leaves, caressed the smoothness of his stone. Calm settled over him, and he imagined his Master with him. He swore he could almost feel him in the Force, so close he could reach out and touch him. The signature was right, the steadiness was right, his courage and comfort were right. But it had to be imagination. Yet it was really in the Force. If someone had been with him, they’d probably have sensed it, too, but had someone been with him, he would not have asked for fear of the answer he’d get. He shook his head a little and relaxed again. This time, when he felt the signature, he touched it. And then, at the same moment, he felt his bond to Qui-Gon waken before contact was lost again. He felt a tad frustrated. No, he couldn’t give in. He was deep into meditation at the moment and so close. He felt the Force ripple with a gentle calming suggestion, much like the kind Qui-Gon used when Obi-Wan was new to the apprenticeship and wanted to learn so quickly. He laughed. _Yes, Master, just like old times, eh?_ It was the first real laugh he’d felt in weeks. He touched Qui-Gon again but held the position this time, and joy and pride radiated from him. Or was it from both of them? Obi-Wan heard no physical sound, but speech was telepathic. Old times, indeed.

/Padawan, I’m not supposed to be here. One might say I committed one last act of rebellion./

Obi-Wan chuckled. /Typical. What’d you do? Break the laws of time and space to talk to me now?/

/Well, not that drastic. Everyone who joins the Force can watch what goes on in the galaxy, but I’m not supposed to be able to communicate with you until you join it. I…uh…wasn’t having that./

/Did you argue with the Force itself? Or is this a clandestine meeting?/

/You cannot hide from the Force, young one. I did not argue, merely put in a request. I do not know if I can speak to you again in the future. But know that I’m with you, watching your progress, and proud of your accomplishments so far. I’m sure that by the end of your natural life, I’ll be prouder still. I do not say goodbye, because one day, we’ll meet again. But since this is a favor granted by the Force, you should be prepared in case we don’t talk again until you join me./

/I understand, Master./ Obi-Wan was grave. /But it’s enough to know you’re not really gone. I wonder if other Jedi have spoken to those they thought they lost. There is no death; there is the Force. Surely that exists for a reason; not simply to make death easier to handle./

/I could not say. But you know it to be true, and that’s all that really matters./

Obi-Wan smiled. /About Anakin, I’m not sure I can train him. Did you really mean for me to do it?/

/I did, and you can. You’ll do a thorough and good job, just like you’ve done on every mission you’ve helped me with, with every task I set you during your apprenticeship. You must teach him how to deal with change, with loss, with death. Other Masters may be more experienced than you, but you are more emotionally aware than they are. You know how to accept life as it comes and goes and you see no value in wishing for a past you have no hope of bringing back. And you must teach Anakin how to see beauty in ugliness. I know it’s asking a lot, and you cannot force him to learn, but these are traits you have in abundance. I’m not asking you to do anything you would not naturally do. Just try to set a good example. And again, you would do that, anyway./

/At least, I have a few years to actually feel like a Knight. I still feel like a follower, not a leader./

/I understand, Obi-Wan. But countless generations have passed that hurdle before you, so I’m not worried. You’ll do fine./

Obi-Wan believed him. /I can’t help wishing you hadn’t died./

/I’m still here, you know. As far as I’m concerned, I’m glad you didn’t. I hoped to kill the Zabrak before you rejoined the fight, but the Force had other plans. You will make it without me, Padawan. Remember your friends, talk to Anakin about me, ask him about his mother, see if you can’t come to some kind of understanding. Don’t shut people out. I know what that’s like, and it won’t help you./

/His mother? I hope he doesn’t expect that from me. I’m not going to coddle him. And thanks to you, I think I can deal with people again./

/I don’t expect you to coddle him. But it might be a bonding point for you two, something you have in common. Since you said I was like your father./

/Oh. Then I’ll try that./

/I’m sorry I couldn’t be there physically for your Knighting. It was supposed to be a happier occasion. But rest assured, I saw it. And I was highly amused that you stood up to Master Yoda./

Obi-Wan grinned. /Felt kind of good. But I’m still going to miss you so badly./ His mental voice was plaintive, pleading.

/I cannot stay, little one. You must learn to rely on yourself now. You can. You have good instincts and a keen mind. Remember, we’ll meet again. I’ll be wherever you are. You must believe this, even though you no longer feel me in the Force. You can only sense up to a certain range, and normally, we in the Force cannot get close enough. You’ll be a great Jedi. I’m certain of it. I anticipate our reunion with joy, but make sure it doesn’t happen for a long time. And never forget I was willing to die so that you might live. Such is your value to me. Put that stone on the ground, in the soil. I must go, but would leave you with one more gift./ Obi-Wan did as he was told and watched as the stone flashed brilliantly. He felt Qui-Gon’s signature touching it. /Our bond cannot transmit emotions and thoughts because of distance, and the stone cannot facilitate communication, but when you handle it now, you’ll know I’m aware of you. A part of my signature, a tiny part, has been absorbed into the stone. You will sense what I feel when you activate it. It is the best I can do at the moment./

/Thank you, Master. It is more than I expected./ Obi-Wan was touched, humbled, honored. He felt a caress over their bond before it went dormant. He picked up the stone and touched it with the Force, and immediately, he sensed love and serenity coming from it. He smiled and placed it in his pocket. Rolling up the mat, he returned it to his bag and made his way back to the Temple. His Master was with him. He was a Knight now and his decisions were his own, but whatever happened, he would always be loved.


	4. Cultural Differences

Obi-Wan knocked on Anakin’s door. The other Initiates he was housed with were far ahead of him in Jedi skills, but he’d told Anakin everyone had to start somewhere and he just had to accept his place until he caught up. The boy had nodded sullenly, but he’d told Obi-Wan he’d learn so he could train with him when he was old enough.

Anakin answered the door, looked surprised, then smiled up at Obi-Wan. "Hi, Master. Good to see you. Come in." Anakin’s voice was cheerful as he scurried inside and sat on his couch as Obi-Wan strode in and shut the door.

"Hello, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied kindly, returning the smile. He removed his shoes by Anakin’s couch and took a seat, folding his legs in front of him. "Anakin, would you sit across from me?"

"Sure." The boy complied, copying Obi-Wan’s pose.

"You seem happy, young one. Any particular reason?"

"Well, when I first got here, it was really lonely, you know. People stared at me, said I spoke oddly, and no one really cared about me. But a couple days ago, I met a boy who is good with machines like me. We like building things and while we played, he asked me about Tatooine - what a desert is like, what kind of food there is, and I told him about the Hutts. He seemed interested. He said he’s never been off Coruscant and he’s not allowed to go out without someone until he’s old enough to become a Padawan. But we eat together at meal times and I think he’s a friend now."

"I’m happy to hear it," Obi-Wan said approvingly. "I’m sorry I haven’t been by to visit you more often. I just…It’s been hard." Obi-Wan dipped his head a little.

Anakin patted Obi-Wan’s hand. "It’s your Master, isn’t it? You miss him?"

"I…Yes, I suppose so. He was like my dad. It’s been hard to accept that I can’t touch him anymore or ask him for advice or support when I’m not feeling well."

"Yeah, I get that. I miss my mom for the same reasons. But at least, my mom’s still alive. I think. I hope."

"You know you cannot contact her until you are fully trained."

"Yeah." Anakin looked sad. "But your situation’s worse. If my mom died, I don’t know what I’d do."

"Well, you’d carry on, of course. The galaxy doesn’t stop because someone dies."

"Yes, it does. It’s not like anything would matter if I lost her."

Obi-Wan chuckled ruefully. "There’s no one else in the galaxy to live for?"

"Well…Maybe Padme, and Tru, the boy I told you about, and…" Anakin looked away, suddenly shy. "Would you be sad if I died?"

Obi-Wan blinked. If Anakin died, he wouldn’t have to train him. But he wouldn’t exactly be overjoyed at his death, either. He felt guilty that he could not honestly say yes, however. "If you died, I would feel like I failed you. But it’s too soon to say whether I’d be sad. We don’t know each other very well."

The boy nodded, but frowned in disappointment. "It makes sense, I guess."

Obi-Wan knew he’d said the wrong thing, but it was too late now. In any case, he couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. It was too much ingrained that it was wrong. He tried to explain. "I guess I’m different from you. I don’t connect with people immediately. Relationships have to be built over time, like your machines. I think if we spent more time together, got to know each other better, there’d come a day I would be sad if you were in the Force. The reason I miss Qui-Gon is because I’ve known him for over a decade. Plenty of time to collect memories."

"Oh." The boy sounded more convinced now. "Yes. I’ve known Mom all my life, though memories are fuzzy way back. I hope one day, you’ll want me to live for you. What did you mean by me being in the Force?"

"Well, the Jedi don’t really believe people die. Yes, they stop moving physically, but we think they join the Force. Our Force signatures - the unique impressions we sense and connect to each individual - that’s eternal. The signature is who we are. Our bodies are just temporary vessels. I miss Qui-Gon and probably always will, but I accept that he is no longer physically here. One day, I will see him again. Death isn’t the end; merely a transition to a different kind of being."

"But there’s no proof of that. And it doesn’t change the fact someone’s gone."

"No, it doesn’t. But death is something that cannot be changed. There’s no point in remaining upset or sad about it. I might be wrong and I may never see Qui-Gon again. But to think that way is totally unproductive. I think it’s better to believe in a lie that is helpful than truth that hurts. My friends need me; you need me; the Jedi need me. I refuse to waste my time and energy on something that’s set in stone."

"Sounds like denial."

"No. How can I deny Qui-Gon’s death? I was there holding his body. But I have people to live for, people to support me, and he is not gone so long as there are those in the galaxy who remember him."

"I can’t understand, Master," the boy said sadly.

Obi-Wan nodded. "It’s okay, young one. These things take time and experience. Say, would you like to come with me to visit a friend?"

"Okay," Anakin agreed readily.

When they arrived at Dex’s diner, there was a group standing together waiting for their takeout orders. One man pulled his wallet out in anticipation of his turn to place his order, and it flew from his hand into Anakin’s. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in shock before narrowing dangerously at Anakin. "Anakin, that’s wrong. Return it." His tone was stern, clipped.

"Why?" asked the boy defiantly.

"What? It doesn’t belong to you."

"It does now."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Anakin, give it here. Now." It was a command, issued sharply and with no room for argument. The boy scowled, but obeyed. "Wait here," Obi-Wan ordered, and walked up to the man, handing back the wallet. "I’m sorry, sir. Anakin-" he indicated him, "has an unusual history. He didn’t realize his error. He wasn’t raised with us, you see." He bowed humbly.

The man blinked. "Well, no harm done. No worries."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied politely and went back to Anakin, who looked from the man to Obi-Wan contemptuously. "Anakin? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You’re a Jedi. He’s Force-blind. He should be grateful to you for having pity on him. That money was mine by rights. I took it."

"Just because you take it doesn’t make it yours."

Anakin shrugged. "Only way to get anything when you don’t have money."

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin with a mixture of shame and disappointment. "It’s our turn." He turned to the droid taking the orders. "I’d like two fruit and nut tarts and two chocolate-glazed doughnuts, please."

"Sure. Ten credits, please."

Obi-Wan paid and stepped off to the side to wait for the food and was approached by Dex. "Hello, Obi-Wan," he greeted cheerfully, slapping him on the shoulder. "And who’s the little man with you?"

"Anakin Skywalker, my Padawan. Anakin, meet Dexter Jettster."

"Hello, sir," Anakin smiled and held out his hand. "Good to meet you."

"Hey there, Anakin," Dex boomed, shaking the proffered hand vigorously. "Nice to meet you, too. Oh, the pastries are yours, right? I’ll get them." Dex discreetly slipped credits into their bag under pretense of checking the order and handed it to Obi-Wan. "Two chocolates and two tarts?" Obi-Wan nodded. "And the proud tradition continues," Dex grinned. "I remember when Qui-Gon brought you here. He got the standard glazed doughnuts and already knew you liked the tarts best. You weren’t as little as Anakin. You were maybe thirteen."

"That’s right," Obi-Wan murmured a little sadly. "Anakin’s nine. I won’t actually begin training him until he’s twelve. As for Qui-Gon, I don’t know if you’ve heard already but he died. He was slain in combat. He fell in defense of Naboo. And me."

"I’m sorry," Dex patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder. "You two sometimes came in and had meals here. I know you were close. If you need to talk…" He trailed off uncertainly.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan smiled kindly. "I’ve mostly come to terms with the death, but will always miss him, I think. I’d better be going before these things melt. May the Force be with you." He bowed politely and grinned.

"And with you, Knight Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker." Dex waved and disappeared toward the kitchen.

Back at the Temple, Obi-Wan took Anakin to his roomier quarters and put the snacks into his cooling unit. Obi-Wan took the armchair across from the sofa and indicated Anakin should sit across from him. He did so, looking worried. Obi-Wan hadn’t said a word since saying goodbye to Dex. "Padawan, I don’t understand why you see nothing wrong with thievery."

"Master, it was commonplace on Tatooine. People are lawless there. Or at least, it pays to be that way."

"And your mother. Did she condone such action?"

"Well…" Anakin looked away guiltily. "Not really. So I didn’t tell her when I did it."

Obi-Wan frowned. "It pays? You mean, it benefits you?"

"Not just me. Anyone who is capable of it. But I was good at it, as you saw. I stole a little extra food, money, a tool here, a part there…Sometimes just for me and sometimes so Mom and I would have more to eat."

Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully. "I didn’t realize how difficult you and your mother had it. But I still cannot condone thievery."

"Sure. It’s illegal and makes people upset. But you know that in this galaxy, it’s the strong that survive. If some of us have abilities that make us more powerful, why not take advantage of that?"

"What?" Obi-Wan was horrified. Anakin even felt it in the Force and cringed. "Padawan, the Force is not something to use for evil, like taking advantage of others. The way I see it, our power makes us obligated to use it to help and defend those who are less fortunate."

"Where’s the value in that, unless you can gain something in return?"

Obi-Wan just stared at Anakin, unable to comprehend such selfishness.

"Master, think about it. Power makes you an owner, a master. Weakness makes you a slave, someone to order around and serve you. One day, I won’t be pushed around. I’ll be strong enough to command others. The way to control people is to scare them. I’ll have enough strength that people will be too afraid to oppose me."

Obi-Wan began to be truly afraid. "Padawan, no. Those who are more powerful should serve those who are less so. If someone has more, they can afford to help those who need it. It is not just the tangible and material that has value. I know it feels like you serve me as a Padawan, but really, it’s the Master who sacrifices and serves. I know you do not understand right now. But love, friendship, safety - such things, I think, are more valuable than money. I know I cannot convince you at the moment. You have a set idea of how the galaxy works. But I, too, have an idea of how it works, and I would leave you with this thought: Nothing is free. If you would gain something, you must pay for it somehow. Conversely, if you lose something, you sometimes gain something else. There is no such thing as having it all. Good and bad always go together. So it is better to do what is good, so that you accumulate less debt. Goodness does not ask for a return."

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan steadily, his turn to be thoughtful. "Like paying for the pastries?"

"Well, kind of. Let’s try them." He took them from the unit and got plates, setting them on the low table in front of the sofa. He put one of each treat on each plate and left to get drinks. He brought out two cups of juice and took a seat on the floor at one end of the table. Anakin took the other end. As Obi-Wan moved the empty bag out of the way, they heard clinking. Curious, Obi-Wan reached in and fished out the credits Dex left. It seemed Dex had returned Obi-Wan’s money.

"Hey," Anakin grinned. "I think these were free."

"No," Obi-Wan smiled, "It’s only that I’m Dex’s friend, and he was not obligated to do this. These may have been free for us this time, but it doesn’t mean we should always expect this treatment or that they’re actually free. But never mind. Have you ever had chocolate before?"

"No. Tatooine doesn’t have it."

"Hmmm," Obi-Wan smiled shrewdly. "How do you like it?"

Anakin took a bite and his eyes widened in joy. "Master, I love it! You get to eat this all the time? You’re so lucky."

Obi-Wan laughed with amusement. "I wouldn’t want it all the time. But once in a while, I crave it." He bit into his doughnut and licked his lips.

"Master, I really appreciate this. Even if Dex gave these to us as a gift, thank you for being willing to buy them for us."

"Don’t thank me yet. You don’t know if you’ll like the tart."

Anakin tried it. He looked undecided. "Maybe without the nuts," Anakin smiled.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "I’ll remember next time."

"I’m still grateful," Anakin affirmed as he finished the fruit tart and savored his doughnut.

"You’re very welcome, Padawan."

They ate in companionable silence, Obi-Wan resolved to do his best to show Anakin what a Jedi was. Anakin, meanwhile, learned to keep secrets. Obi-Wan was like his mother, and telling the truth would only anger or hurt him. He loved them both too much to want to do that.


End file.
